


House Of The Rising Sun

by Lilith_Child



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Demon Blood Addiction, General Creepy and Lonely Feel, Hallucinations, I Am Not Kidding About the MCD, M/M, Sam Has Self-Esteem Issues, Season/Series 09, Self-Esteem Issues, Stream of Consciousness, The Author Regrets Everything, like woah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith_Child/pseuds/Lilith_Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Adam hadn’t gotten out into this world of too many wrong choices and no right ones. Lucky, Sam thought.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He was fairly confidant that he was drugged.<i></i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>There’s a demon, blood, and an alley.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>This is the story of his last hours.</i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Of The Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little something I wrote to tide you guys over until I finish the sequel to Golden Crowns and Broken Wings.
> 
> I own nothing, and all mistakes are mine.

Lucifer still hovered around in the shadows of Sam’s vision. He was quiet and didn’t bother Sam, though, so he let it go. It would pass. Cas had taken away Lucifer before, so he could do it again, if needed. Lucifer didn’t solidify into a real person, so Sam let it pass him by. Ignoring him worked, now.

It wouldn’t get to the point that Dean couldn't depend on him again. He was already worthless enough to his brother. He wouldn’t just become dead weight. He couldn’t.

Lucifer wasn’t there all the time, and when he was, he was never more than an echo. A suggestion. I am waiting for you, he seemed to say when Sam paid attention to the empty walls. (It happened more often than he would like to admit.) 

Come back to me, Lucifer’s faint voice would whisper late at night. It would be so easy. Just one pull of the trigger, and then you’re gone. You’re home…

It scared Sam, sometimes, like the nights when he couldn’t tell whether or not it was Lucifer or his own rational (well, as rational as any hunter’s could get) mind talking. Like the nights he seriously considered it.

But for the most part, much of the time Lucifer was silent or gone.

Now was not much of the time.

Sam stared at the demon above him. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, or who was with him. Was Dean here? Was Castiel? This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Was the demon wearing a teenage girl real? Was anything? 

Where was he?

That one at least, Sam could answer. He was in an ice storm, screaming as he was buried in the snow — but no. He was fairly sure that the ice wasn’t real. It was too gentle when it slammed into his skin, and besides, he remembered this. Adam should be here, and Adam was in the Cage, now.

Adam hadn’t gotten out into this world of too many wrong choices and no right ones. Lucky, Sam thought. 

He was fairly confidant that he was drugged.

There was a faint ringing noise — more screaming? — in his ears, and it was growing louder. As it came closer, he could make out the words.

Sam! Lucifer’s voice yelled. Sam! You have to wake up!

“Sam!” 

The shout startled Sam awake. The demon was gone and the sun was setting. Unsettled, Sam got up — using the brick wall of the dirty alley as a crutch — and started to limp towards what he perceived as the main street. His hip hurt. It was the one he had been laying on, Sam realized. How long had he been out?

Sam got about two steps forward before he bent over to throw up. It was hard to see in the ever-darker light, but Sam was familiar enough with the smell to recognize it without any visual cues.

Blood.

And it was demon blood, at that.

Fuck. This was not going to go over well with Dean. What could he say? I don’t really know what happened to me, but my hallucination of Lucifer that never actually really went away yelled at me to wake up, which I did, and then I threw up demon blood? Dean would never believe him, Sam knew.

Dean thought his addiction had gone away, Sam was pretty sure. He didn’t quite know why Dean thought that, seeing as Sam had never made any mention of it and it had been an addiction since birth, but evidently, in Dean’s mind, it was gone.

Sinking to the dark pavement beside his vomit, Sam realized that he was immobile, nauseous, and had no idea where he was. Staying where he was seemed to be the safest option. At least this way, if he stayed here, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone during withdrawal. And, if he cracked his skull open on the alley walls along the way, well, Dean wouldn’t have to put up with him any more.

Dean would get over his death, eventually. He’d find someone to replace Sam with, and, yeah, maybe he’d have some nostalgic thoughts of when Sam was younger, but if Sam was honest with himself, he knew that Dean had been mourning that Sammy for much longer than the total amounts of his death.

His hands were trembling, Sam realized. The sun had finally set by now, and the air was cold. It snaked underneath his jacket, and Sam shivered.

Wait. That wasn’t the air, Sam realized. That was a pair of hands. Sam jerked to the side instinctively.

He knew those hands.

“Sam?” Lucifer said. He was kneeling in front of Sam, and his freezing cold hands froze where they lay on top of Sam’s jacket. “Sam, are you alright?”

No, Sam tried to say. No words came out when he opened his mouth, though. He barely had a second to turn his head before he vomited for the second time in the night.

Lucifer was stroking his hair, he realized. It felt like something out of a dream, or a half-remembered memory. As Sam slumped back on to the wall, he realized that the pressure of Lucifer’s hands was fading from his body.

“Don’ go,” he managed to slur out. 

Lucifer’s image flickered, and Sam couldn’t tell if it was Lucifer leaving or Sam’s eyesight fading. At this point, he welcomed it. Everything that came afterwards would be so much worse than this.

“I won’t,” Lucifer whispered, but Sam knew it was a lie. Lucifer was flickering more and more now, like a bad TV set. Sam looked up at Lucifer.

“You promised that you wouldn’t lie to me,” he said. Sam felt inexplicably hurt and betrayed. He was the devil, after all. He would lie. “You promised me.”

“I know I did,” Lucifer said. He looked sad, Sam thought. What right did Lucifer have to be sad, when Sam was the one who had been lied to?

Lucifer went quiet, and he wouldn’t talk anymore. Sam almost felt safe, in his arms. He thought that he might have fallen asleep again, because when he looked back up at Lucifer, he was gone.

Ruby was there instead, and the grip of her hands in his hair turned rough, punishing. Clenched in one of her hands was a knife, Sam knew. He could feel the blade pressed against the back of his head.

“Let go,” Sam said, or at least, tried to say. He wasn’t sure how clear it was.

She didn’t remove her hands from his hair, though. Sam didn’t expect her to. Instead, she slammed his head into the wall, over and over again. Her mouth moved, and Sam knew she was screaming at him. He looked up at her face as pain exploded in his head. No sounds came from her mouth. It looked like she was screaming the same thing over and over again, Sam was pretty sure, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. 

“Ruby -,” he started, but then she was gone, and Lucifer was back in her place.

Lucifer touched the back of his head gently, and when he pulled his hand away Sam could see that the tips of his pale fingers were dark with blood.

Lucifer was speaking, but like Ruby — like all the too-long nights in the dark with his lonely mind in his lonely room — no sound came out.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I can’t hear you, I’m sorry.” 

He lost track of time again. All he knew was that the sun was rising and he had seen his mother, his father, his brother, his enemies, his friends — what few he had —, and his lovers. Among them, only Lucifer had remained constant. Sam couldn’t tell if he was real or not, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was bleeding, Sam knew, and it was serious. He had been stabbed and shot and burned and drowned and frozen until he couldn’t tell which injuries were real and which were imagined. He didn’t care. All of them were real in his head, and that’s where it made it hurt. 

Sam was pretty sure he was dying, and he was okay with that.

He’d been okay with that for a long time.

Sam stared at the rising sun above him, and the beautiful reds and pinks and oranges swept across the sky. Lucifer sat beside him, holding his bleeding hands.

Sam couldn’t see the stars anymore.

It was the one thought that panicked him. He had to see the stars, he knew, or else it wouldn’t be worth it.

Worth it? something within him said. What makes anything ‘worth it’? What is worth, Sam Winchester?

What I am not, he answered the voice, still staring at the sky. It was growing darker now. Grayer.

“Sam!” something above him screamed. He was pretty sure it was Lucifer.

It’s okay, Sam wanted to tell him. I’m coming back to you now.

“Sam, don’t you dare die on me!”

Sam’s head slipped forward. He couldn’t find the strength within himself to hold it up any longer. What would be the point?

“Sam, can you hear me?”

The world was gray, and Sam knew that he had failed. It was gray like ashes, like the death that had always trailed in his footsteps.

He couldn’t see the stars, and it scared him.

“Sam!”

There was a faint ringing noise, and then he was home. The bitter cold greeted him, but it was a familiar pain, by now.

Sam Winchester died just before the first raindrops hit his skin.


End file.
